I’m sorry to disappoint you. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. ” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. " He approached the bed and laid his palm on the patient's forehead, and nodded. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream.
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